This Is Your Brain on......Mandarin

I'm trying to learn Mandarin Chinese and one of the first lessons was numbers. It occurred to me while learning to count in Chinese that teenagers only exist in the English-speaking world. Not that youth in other countries don't go through the same aging process, it's just that "thirteen", etc., does not exist in other languages. (For those of you keeping track, it's shi san in Chinese.) Does absence of the "teenage" years make a difference in how other cultures view their youth?

In a couple of months, this blogger will be rambling so far west that it will be east, when we temporarily relocate to Beijing, China. My first love is still the outdoors and we will try mightily to spend as much time as possible in observing the natural world. I'm excited to check out China's ornithological society and all the Fatbirder sites in the China section. Those not interested in China, please check back in about a year. We intend to return to the Pacific Northwest and resume talking about this beautiful part of the world.

Meanwhile, we'll see what the world would be like without teenagers.

Angel's Rest is Heaven.......in the Gorge

 

Spring green colors and the smell of deep forest greet us as we exit our vehicles. Today, we hike to the heights of the Columbia Gorge's southern cliffs with Oregon Wild's Wendell Wood. (In my opinion, Wendell is THE MAN when it comes to botany in the gorge. Wendell often refers to Russ Jolley's wildflower book, but I've never hiked with Mr. Jolley, so I can't compare the two. All I can say is that Wendell is a walking encyclopedia of wildflowers, a natural teacher and just an all-around nice guy.)

The trail pulls uphill for just over two miles, through predominately Doug fir forest, to a rocky outcrop 1500 feet above the Columbia River. Fortunately, we must stop often to identify flowers. Wendell talks about whether the plant is edible, explains plant parts and tells us about uses of the plant by Native Americans.

Unlike our previous trips with Wendell, though, I find I am not so overwhelmed with trying to remember all the flowers. With even the slight increase in my identification skills, I can spread my attention to the songs of hidden forest birds, to the clink of volcanic rocks as we passed through a slide, and to the wonder of the river and mountain viewpoints on the trail.

After lunch perched on the rocks at Angel's Rest, we continue toward the Wahkeena Falls trail head, along the frothy water spilling from Wahkeena Springs, past the silver spray of Fairy Falls and the final cascade of Wahkeena Falls. Larkspurs (Delphinium trillifolium), tiger lillies (Lilium columbianum), and Oregon Flag (Iris tenax) are the flowers of the day today.

This six miler can be done in either direction with a car shuttle. To reach the Angel's Rest trail head, take the Bridal Veil exit (28) from Interstate 84. Go slightly uphill to a parking lot at the junction of the Old Columbia River Highway. The trail begins across the highway. To start at Wahkeena Falls, turn left on the old highway and drive east about three miles to the marked trail head at a picnic area.

Look, in the sky, it's a bird?

These are the days of strange noises. This morning, early, I heard an agitated scrub jay. I wondered what was going on, since the last time I heard such excited utterances was when the scrub jays were being stalked by a cat. As I was working out in the yard later, I kept on hearing buzzy scolding sounds, like a hoarse squirrel. Later in the afternoon, I finally spied the culprit—a gray-headed juvenile jay who was getting audibly excited any time a parent came around with a tidbit of food. One of the parents must have been coaxing junior along this morning.

Sometimes even seeing the bird does not help with identification. This little guy pictured above was bobbing around the back yard a few days ago. Can you guess? The shape is familiar, the white edges on the tail ring a bell, but the dead give away for me (and I am cheating) is that I have seen his parents in the yard for several weeks now.

Sweet Creek Falls

Sheets of wind-driven rain pounded the roof and sides of our little trailer, perched on a hillside near Florence, Oregon. We were snug and warm inside, but our mood matched the gloom. This downpour was as welcome as a house cat under the bird feeder.

The next morning showed us the error of our disposition. We ventured out, toward Mapleton on Highway 126, across the Suislaw River bridge and right onto Sweet Creek Road. Our destination was the Homestead Trailhead, marked with a sign "Sweet Creek Trail," about 10 miles up the road. We arrived, got out of the truck and were greeted by the roar of water funneling down the creek. All that water raining down yesterday? It seems to have made its way to the creek.

We followed a varied thrush as it hopped and fluttered up the rocky banks to the gorge, where we hugged the cliff edges on bridges bolted to the canyon wall. A tremendous volume of water cascaded over rocks and ledges in a beautiful display, possibly only rivaled by the population of spring wildflowers. Raindrops sparkled rainbow colors in the occasional sunlight.

After just more than a mile, a trail zigzags up to a viewing platform only a few feet from the falls, where today the spray made photography, or even a good look, impossible. We trekked back down and stared across to the other side of the falls, where the main trail continues. Evidently, at some times of the year it is possible to cross the creek. That was not happening today.

We backtracked to the truck and drove to the Wagon Road Trailhead, 1.3 miles farther up the road. The best falls view is .8 miles down this trail at another viewing platform. The trail also drops down to the creek crossing we saw earlier, but the view there is mediocre.

We also hiked eastbound on the upper portion of the trail, a much quieter stretch where we could actually hear the excited song of winter wren. A sign along this stretch reminded us that we were traversing an old wagon road used by the creek's namesake, Zarah Sweet and his family. I imagine those pioneers got caught in a few of those soaking rains--with much less shelter. I hope they also could enjoy the sight of the creek at high water.

Psaltriparus minimus--say that 10 times really fast

According to the bushtits (Psaltriparus minimus), nesting season has arrived. Within the past week, the little bushtit swarm that completely covered our suet feeder has pared to two birds.

Kenn Kaufman says that when winter bushtit flocks break up, the birds pair off to establish nesting territories but do not defend them, tolerating other bushtits even near the nest. Last year, I first noted the bushtits paired off on March 15, also observing that, four days later, three bushtits came to the suet feeder.

In the same way that family traditions provided comfort in my youth, I find peace in the consistent cycles of nature, especially the advent of spring. The first bright green sprigs of osoberry, the purple of crocuses and the songs of migration and nesting.

They're Back!

For the third year in a row, red tailed hawks are nesting in plain sight of this webcam. How convenient!

Okay, okay, the camera was installed after the hawks built their nest on the fire escape of a Portland, Oregon office building in 2007. Last year, I tuned in frequently to see how parents and eggs, then babies, were doing. This is fascinating stuff, way better than most of what's on television! I was thinking it was about time for a nest this year, and checked today to see that the birds are right on schedule. Enjoy!

From North to South and Coast to Coast

For all (three) of you who read this blog, my long silence has nothing to do with the doldrums of late winter, although that would be a good excuse. In fact, we just returned from nearly a month in Georgia and Florida.

Exploring a new area can be overwhelming. My mind attempts to assimilate all the new plants and birds into known categories. Sometimes that works and sometimes it doesn't. I pretty much gave up on plants--although I will say that I haven't seen that much mangrove since we returned from the Galapagos.

The forests of Georgia, which I have yet to see leafed out:


I tried harder with birds. Luck and patience combined to make these favorite memories:

Corkscrew Swamp Sanctuary outside of Naples, Florida. Painted buntings are seen throughout the day coming to this feeder. During our first wait, three raccoons scared away a lone female. Our second visit late in the day resulted in several good looks at the males.


Joe Overstreet Rd near Three Lakes Wildlife Management Area, south of Orlando. This fellow's sweet song is so close in quality to our western version that it sounds like the same voice speaking different words.


Wakodahatchee Wetlands near Boca Raton--no birder's visit to Florida would be complete without a stop here. Nearby is Green Cay Wetlands, but we arrived too late in the day to see both.

Herons in several varieties, egrets galore, numerous warblers and alligators, snakes and armadillos--these are the things you can see if you drag yourself away from the Florida tourist traps.

On our final night of birding, we waited at sunset on the possibility of seeing the rare red cockaded woodpecker. Several palm warblers came to say goodbye, but no woodpeckers were in sight.